Darkest Hour
by mochicake
Summary: The year is 1997. Albus Dumbledore is dead. Hoping to protect the students, England manages to talk his way into a teaching position at Hogwarts... but having sixteen other nations follow him there is something he never planned.
1. The Magic Comes Back

A/N: Apologies to those who read Hetalia and/or HP fanfiction for the shipping, but I should mention in advance that there'll be very little explicit romance in this story. Heck, this is a fic set during the seventh book; I'd be a pretty crappy writer if all I can write about is who hooks up with whom. There might be mild flirting and innuendos at best, but don't expect to see any hot snogging scenes.

A warning to those who are sensitive about profanity: there will be liberal use of it throughout the fic. I'll try to use lighter words whenever I can, but be warned that F-bombs will be dropped every now and then.

* * *

><p>The atmosphere in Diagon Alley seemed darker, Arthur noted with a grimace. Normally it was crowded, noisy, and full of life. Now, the wind whistled through empty streets and rattled the bare windows of abandoned, barricaded shops. Stillness pressed down around him. Each footstep scraped loudly against the dusty road, and the sound seemed to resonate down the long, barren alley.<p>

Arthur's gaze flickered briefly around him, and he thought he saw several pairs of eyes watching him from the dark side streets. Of course he had expected to draw attention; his beige vest, collared shirt, and neatly pressed pants gave him a very conspicuous Muggle appearance, something that was difficult to ignore in the wizarding central of London. But still, something about the stares seemed a little... _off_.

He straightened his back and cocked his head up. He was the United bloody Kingdom, damn it; he was not going to be intimidated by a few leering eyes in the shadows.

The rusty sign of the Leaky Cauldron creaked faintly overhead as it swung in the wind. Never before had it looked so battered and worn—or maybe it was only now that Arthur noticed it, when there was nothing else to see in the gloomy vicinity. The sign used to mark a friendly, social gateway between two worlds, a sanctuary constantly bustling with dynamic chatter and quirky visitors; but now, as the brass silhouette swayed from its groaning chains, it gave him more of an ominous feeling than a welcoming one.

Frowning, Arthur pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The only shift of movement was from the bar, where Tom the landlord sat alone in the dark, musty pub. His head jerked up when Arthur entered, and he quickly scrambled to his feet as the blonde seated himself at the empty counter.

"Kirkland," Tom said, peering at Arthur with a toothless smile. "It's been a quite a while."

"Too long, Tom," Arthur sighed, returning the smile ruefully. "I must say though, coming back to... this—" he gestured out the window "—wasn't quite what I expected."

"Ah, yes." The humour slipped from Tom's expression. "Depressing, isn't it? It's been like this for a while... People are afraid to come out in public, with all the dark wizards prowling around day and night. It's terrible for business too. You're the first customer I've had in quite some time—you'd like anything, by the way?"

"I'll take a glass of mead, if you don't mind." As Tom began rummaging through his stock, Arthur furrowed his brows and crossed his legs underneath the counter. "But that's awful, that people are too frightened to even leave their homes. Surely the Ministry should be doing something about this?"

"They should, but..." Tom glanced around as if he were afraid of being overheard, even though the rest of the pub was deserted, and then he leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, "They say You-Know-Who's behind all these changes at the Ministry. Thing is, nobody knows where he _is_. Some say he's planning something big, even bigger than taking over the government, and people are talking about leaving the country before it's too late. That's easier said than done though, I wouldn't be surprised if those Death Eaters are prowling around the borders as well." He frowned and turned his attention back to his disordered stock of bottles. "Ah, bollocks, I think I'm out of mead. Sorry, Kirkland, but would you mind waiting here a bit? I'll go fetch some more, shan't be a minute."

Arthur waved his assent and watched the old landlord disappear into a back room, leaving him sitting alone in the gloom. Leaning his elbow on the countertop, he turned over Tom's words in his head. From what he had heard and seen, the magical world was a complete mess. Clearly, being the only nation who kept in regular contact with wizards hadn't been enough. He didn't even know who the new Minister for Magic was, and judging by how corrupt the Ministry had become, Arthur decided it would be wisest not to reveal his true identity to him; the very last thing he needed was for that kind of information to leak its way to Voldemort. He really didn't think he was in a good position to fight the Dark Lord and his legions of supporters, especially now that Albus Dumbledore—his friend, his former colleague, and quite possibly the only man Voldemort had ever feared—was dead.

With a heavy sigh, Arthur closed his eyes and put a hand to his temple. He didn't look up even when the creak of the door signalled another person coming into the Leaky Cauldron. There was a brief rustling of a cloak, and then the new arrival sat wordlessly at the bar a few seats away from Arthur, staring steadily forward, waiting for the barman's return. Arthur threw a furtive glance sideways, and through the shadows he could see a tall, skinny figure dressed in black, with a slightly crumpled witch hat resting in her lap and her greying hair pulled back in a tight bun. From his vantage point, he could just barely make out her face... and to his immense astonishment, it was a very familiar face.

He squinted. It couldn't be...

Perhaps noticing that she was being stared at, the woman turned her head, and their eyes met. Both froze for a split second. Then Arthur said, in an oddly constricted voice, "Miss—Miss McGonagall?"

Her mouth opened and closed a few times without a sound coming out. Only when Arthur's face broke into a faint smile did she manage to recover her voice. "Professor Kirkland?"

"Oh, good, you remember me," Arthur said with a slight chuckle.

Minerva McGonagall stared for a few seconds, and then visibly attempted to pull herself together. "It's hardly difficult to recognise you," she said, her crisp tone regaining some of the edge that even her former teacher remembered well. "You haven't seemed to change in the slightest."

"Neither have you, love," Arthur said, standing up and walking over to give Minerva a warm hug. "You're still the same sharp girl I used to teach all those years ago."

The corners of her lips twitched upwards. "I'm not quite sure 'girl' is the appropriate word here," she said, raising her eyebrows. "I'm afraid my age is finally beginning to catch up to me."

"Yes, time finds its way with all of us eventually. Even with those who appear never to change," Arthur added sagely, eliciting a peculiar look from Minerva. He merely gave her a small, enigmatic smile. "So," he said, sitting down next to her, "how have you been?"

If she was thrown by the sudden shift in topic, she hid it well. "I've had better days, I must admit," she said. "This summer has been quite chaotic. Hogwarts is undergoing so many changes now that... Albus... is..."

Something in her voice broke and she muffled a cough in her hands, perhaps trying to cover up the fleeting moment of emotion. Arthur's eyes softened, and he laid his hand over hers with a slight nod. He understood. Neither of them needed to say anything more about it.

"I'm worried," he confessed quietly after a short silence. "No doubt the Dark Lord will attempt to take over the school eventually, if not very soon. Mr Riddle had always been fond of the place."

Minerva made tiny, apprehensive noise at the name. With Voldemort's nigh inhuman presence casting a shadow over them, it was easy to forget that he was once a student of Hogwarts as well. "I'm afraid that time may have come already," she said grimly. "The Ministry is now responsible for major staffing changes at Hogwarts, and from what little I've heard, it seems that we'll be having a few Death Eaters within our walls next year." Her eyes flashed at the notion of such people prowling around the esteemed corridors of the school.

Meanwhile, Arthur's heavy brows furrowed, and for a minute he seemed deep in thought.

"Tell me, love," he said slowly, "how many teaching positions are there left open? Perhaps... I could consider stepping in for a little while. If only to prevent somebody with far more sinister motives from entering the school."

Minerva looked taken aback by this suggestion. "Well, I'm not exactly authorised to make those decisions right now," she said, frowning. "If the Ministry officially appoints me as Headmistress, I would be happy to let you come back and teach again. As it is, however... you'd have to speak with the Department of Magical Education first. But sir," she added, "are you sure you'll be all right coming back to Hogwarts? They run background checks on everybody who enters the school now, with ridiculously extensive interrogations of those who have... questionable histories."

"Oh, don't worry about that, love," Arthur said with a wry smile, as Tom finally reappeared from the back room holding a large bottle of mead. "I daresay that will be the least of my problems."

* * *

><p>"Dude, you're going to <em>what<em>?"

"I said," Arthur repeated with faint annoyance, "that I'll be going to teach at Hogwarts for some time, and thus will be absent from world meetings starting September. That's in two months, if you haven't been paying attention as usual."

Alfred leaned back in his chair and whistled. "Man, that's kinda stupid," he said, crossing his legs and folding his hands behind his head. "You just gonna get off your ass and leave like that? Arms, dude. It's like the freakin' eighteenth century all over again—not cool."

Arthur paled slightly; he looked as though Alfred had hit him in the face. "That has nothing to do with this," he muttered, looking down at the table and avoiding the American's eyes. "The school is in danger, and the students even more so. I want to—no, I _need_ to be there to keep them safe."

"But why do you even care?" Alfred demanded, oblivious to the uneasy looks he was getting from some of the more sensitive nations. "It's just a stupid magic school."

"This 'stupid magic school' happens to be the finest in the world," Arthur said irritably, his head snapping up to glare at Alfred again, "and damn if I'm going to just sit by and allow Death Eaters to run rampant all over it and destroy its honour like they're doing to my country!"

Murmurs rippled around the room at Arthur's outburst. "But how are you even going to get in?" Elizabeta asked, transparently trying to divert from the touchy issue. "You're not even human!"

"_England_ may not be, but _Arthur Kirkland_ certainly is," he pointed out. "I've already gotten my official documents sorted out, and they should be enough to satisfy the authorities. About time I had them replaced anyway, since I'd be approaching thirty-two by now and I don't look nearly the part..."

"I must beg to differ there, Angleterre," Francis said loftily, and Arthur scowled at him.

"I have no time to argue with you, frog," he snapped. "I've got a fucking civil war brewing and my people are being murdered left and right as we speak. Hell, innocent _children_ are suffering just because some bastard and his followers don't like how they were born and are hellbent on slaughtering them all!"

Francis looked genuinely surprised by the harshness in his rival's voice, and for once he fell silent without a single petty retort. Then Feliciano piped up, looking childishly sombre, "Ve... Germany had to do something like that too, didn't he? Remember, Germany, it was that really scary guy with the funny moustache who told you to make all those creepy camps! Ve, remember, Germany? Germanyyy?" Feliciano prodded the blonde nation sitting beside him, but Ludwig remained motionless, staring down at his tightly clenched fists. Many expressions around the room were beginning to change from bemusement to horrified understanding.

Dead silence fell over the meeting. The only sound was the short, steady ticking of the clock—when suddenly, America bounded up from his chair and slammed his hands on the table, making a few people jump.

"Y'know what, this looks like a job for the hero again!" he declared loudly, eager resolve blazing in his bright blue eyes. "We can't have this Mouldyshorts guy pulling off another Holocaust!"

"His name's _Vol_—"

"So here's what we're gonna do!" Alfred hit the table again before Arthur could finish his sentence. "The hero's gonna go to this magic school with Iggy and then kick some evil wizard ass! Leave it all to me!" Ignoring Arthur's loud, disbelieving "_What_?", Alfred began pointing at various nations around the room: "Japan, you can come be my backup! Iggy, I'll have you as my backup too! France and China will also be my backup, and—"

"Hold it, you self-absorbed git!" Arthur cut in, pushing back his chair with such force that it almost clattered over. "This is absurd! None of you are coming to my country and invading my school—"

But then he was interrupted by Ivan, whose unsettling presence spoke louder than any nation's words ever could. "If America is bringing friends to England's magic school, then we are wanting to come as well," he said pleasantly, glancing at Toris and Yao, both of whom looked visibly disturbed. Alfred glowered at Ivan and muttered something about "Commie bastard ruining the fun" under his breath; across the table, Feliks was shooting an equally hostile glare at the Russian.

"If Liet is going, then I'll totally go too!" he said fiercely, throwing an arm around a clearly apprehensive Toris.

"Ooh, I'll come with hyung and Japan!" Yong Soo piped up with an excited flail. The two Asians in question looked less than pleased about this.

"I too would like a look at this school," Ludwig growled stonily, lifting his head at last.

The entire table quickly broke into loud chatter as the other nations began voicing their own opinions about Alfred's proposed course of action. Friends were debating whether or not to follow, older nations were trying to dissuade younger ones, and there was talk all around about going back and checking up on their own long-forgotten magical communities, lest their own countries end up in the same ugly predicament. Arthur stood briefly stunned at how the whole meeting had spiralled out of control in less than a minute. Then he shook his head and sank back down into his seat, grinding his teeth in frustration.

"_Are_ you going to allow us to help you, England-san?" Kiku asked quietly amid the chaos.

"I'd rather not," Arthur muttered exasperatedly, "but honestly, I don't think I have much of a choice."


	2. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

"England's not going to be happy about this," Matthew said nervously from his seat in the corner of the train compartment. "Most of us aren't really supposed to be here..."

Alfred, who was sitting across from him, appeared not to notice his brother. He was too busy playing with his wand and making the hamburgers he had packed swell to four times their size.

"Man, it's been so long, I forgot how wicked this magic stuff is!" he exclaimed in delight. "_Engorgio_! _Engorgio, Engorgio, Engor_—WOAH!" Everybody hastily shielded themselves as one of the hamburgers exploded in a shower of water, drenching everything from the seats to the suitcases to the three men sitting inside the compartment. Alfred blinked, the hand holding his wand frozen in the air, and then he promptly burst into laughter. "Dude, that was awesome!"

"Perhaps to you," Francis said, looking rather miffed as he lifted a lock of dripping blonde hair and stared at it in dismay. "Ugh, and you have ruined one of my most beautiful outfits as well, Amérique stupide..."

"Aw, c'mon, don't get your panties in a twist," Alfred said with a smirk. "I know a spell that can dry you off in a snap! Uh, lessee, what was it again—"

"Do not point that thing at me!"

"_Ventus_!"

A huge blast of hot wind erupted from Alfred's wand and sent several empty wrappers and pieces of parchment flying. Matthew's polar bear, Kumajirou, scrambled behind his owner's legs to use as a shield, while Matthew himself was hiding his face to prevent it from possibly being blown off. The wind died down after a few seconds, though none of them were much drier than they had been before. Francis shot a very reproachful glare at Alfred, who had collapsed sideways in fits of laughter.

"Aw man, you should've seen your _face_!" he howled. "It was flopping all over the place like a freakin' piece of rubber! Oh my god, it was _hilarious_, you looked so dumb! Like _blrblrblrblrb_..." Alfred tried to imitate it by pinching his own cheeks and jiggling them around, but he quickly broke into uncontrollable giggles once more.

Sighing at the sheer stupidity of his brother's antics, Matthew quietly stood up and scooped his soggy polar bear in his arms. "I'm going to see if there are any towels on the train," he mumbled as he sidled out of the compartment, though as usual both his words and his movement went unnoticed. The last thing Matthew heard behind him before he shut the door was Francis berating Alfred in loud, colourful French, which of course the Canadian understood perfectly. He winced as he heard Francis telling the American to do some very profane things that only the Frenchman's shameless mind would be able to conjure up.

Trying to purge the mental images from his brain, Matthew hurried down the corridor of the train, murmuring apologies to every person he bumped into (and even some he didn't, though he thought he did). Despite his hurried jostling through the narrow hall, only a handful of students paused to give the tall, blonde stranger a second glance. Most of them seemed to be preoccupied with their own affairs.

"Hey, did you steal my Chocolate Frog? I swear I put it right here."

"No. What kind of pig are you taking me for?"

"Wait, the Billywig attacked your _what_?"

"Ew, Maisie, your cat is such a pervert!"

"So a banshee, a toad, and a dragon walk into a pub—"

"Dragons are too big to fit in a pub."

"Stop interrupting me!"

To Matthew's dismay, there didn't seem to be any towels anywhere in sight, and to make matters worse, he realised that he and Kumajirou were now dripping water all over the floor of the entire hallway. Hoping to find some help, he stopped outside one compartment whose door was left ajar and peeked timidly inside.

"U-um, excuse me—"

"Snape! _Snape_! Why _him_ of all people?"

A redheaded girl was pacing agitatedly around the room, looking quite livid as she stomped back and forth and complained to her two companions. Sitting next to the window was a stocky, round-faced boy, who was holding what looked like a lumpy potted cactus in his lap, and beside him a pale, blonde girl was reading a magazine though a pair of odd, multicoloured glasses. Instead of the excited anticipation that Matthew had expected to see from regular Hogwarts students, there was something about the three teenagers that gave the atmosphere in the room a distinct sense of foreboding.

Matthew suddenly felt like he was intruding on something very secretive.

"Ginny, calm down," the boy said, watching the pacing girl with concern. "We know Snape's a liar and a murderer. _We _know that, and the teachers do too."

"But _still_! A Death Eater, in charge of the school! A Death Eater snooping around Dumbledore's office, with access to all of Dumbledore's things! That little...!" Ginny began spitting out words that Matthew never would have expected such a nice-looking young lady to know. It reminded him of when he saw Elizabeta blow her cool for the first time after he assumed she was a perfectly pleasant, if a little headstrong, individual. Matthew made a mental note never to make these kinds of assumptions about women again. It was a bit frightening.

After Ginny's outburst, she flopped down into a seat and folded her arms. "This year is going to be hell," she muttered darkly.

"Not while Dumbledore's Army is still around," the boy said with a fierce glint in his eyes. "They can try as hard as they want to take over the school, but you know we're not going down without a fight."

This managed to bring a small smile to Ginny's face.

"Oh, are we starting up the DA lessons again this year?" the blonde girl asked in an airy voice, looking over the top of her magazine with bright, wide eyes.

"'Course," the boy said, and then his face became slightly solemn. "Even though Harry's not at Hogwarts anymore, I know he would want us to keep resisting. Especially now that Snape's got hold over the place. We'll use the enchanted Galleons that Hermione gave us to call the others, and we'll arrange a meeting in the Room of Requirement after we—"

He froze mid-sentence and stared straight at Matthew, finally noticing the stranger eavesdropping on their conversation from the door. Matthew stiffened as the two girls also turned their heads. Ginny stared at him with undisguised suspicion, and the blonde girl tilted her head curiously, pushing up her strange glasses so that they were perched on her forehead.

There was a very tense silence. Matthew was beginning to think he should have left when he had the chance.

"S-sorry," he sputtered at last. "I, uh—I was just looking for a towel... accident in our compartment..."

"I might have one in my trunk," the boy said with a frown. His eyebrows had contracted when Matthew began speaking; obviously he had noticed the Canadian's accent.

Now on top of feeling invasive, Matthew was also feeling slightly alienated. Such a nice train ride this was turning out to be. "Um... may I?" he asked the boy awkwardly.

"Sure, I suppose. Let me just find it... I hope I _did_ bring it," he added sheepishly as he set down his cactus and pulled out a large, worn trunk from underneath his seat.

Matthew slid the compartment door open all the way, and there was a collective gasp from the students when they saw Kumajirou. "Eh? Oh—right." He held up the polar bear, who stared at the strangers with placid, half-lidded eyes. "This is my pet, Kumataro... or Kumagoro... or..." Matthew paused. "Well, his name's something like that," he mumbled, scratching his head.

"Is that a _polar bear_?" Ginny demanded.

"Um, yes... and he's not a toy either," Matthew added, remembering how some sceptical children had harassed him about that back on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters.

"I've never heard of students with pets like that," the boy said, looking caught between apprehension and amazement. "Who are you? I've never seen you around before."

"I'm Matthew Williams. I'm a—a representative from the government of Canada," he blurted out quickly, reciting the carefully rehearsed excuse that they had given the Ministry's Department of Magical Education. "There are a group of representatives visiting Hogwarts from around the world, here to observe how magical schools are run in Britain."

"You're from Canada?" the blonde girl said, intrigued. "Daddy says the plimpies there grow a thick layer of fuzz to deal with the temperatures in the winter. They tickle your feet as you swim past, he says it feels quite nice. I'd like to do that someday."

Matthew wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so he settled for a nod and a politely bewildered smile.

"So what are you representatives going to do at Hogwarts? Are you going to be inspecting us?" Ginny asked, her eyes suddenly narrowing.

"Um... I suppose you could say that?" Matthew saw the three teenagers exchange meaningful looks, and he grew slightly worried. Did he say something wrong? Was there something about inspections that rubbed these students the wrong way? Arthur was going to be even angrier if he somehow messed things up before the term even started.

Suddenly, someone pushed into the compartment and shoved Matthew sideways into the wall. He tripped onto the seat next to Ginny, then glanced up in time to see Yao, dressed unusually in long black robes, slam the door shut with a hasty snap.

"Sorry, America," the Chinese nation said, turning around and slumping against the door, "but between you, Russia, and Korea, I'm going with the lesser of three evils."

"I'm Canada," Matthew sighed automatically. Then, after a short pause, his eyes widened and he added, "W-we shouldn't be using those nicknames around here..."

"Nicknames? What are you—" Yao suddenly noticed the other three in the room, all of whom were listening to the exchange with interest, and understanding dawned on his face. "_Ah_. Yes, all right then... uh..."

"Matthew."

"Matthew." Yao nodded. He glanced again at the other three, scrutinising them curiously. "Are these new friends of yours?"

"No, we just met," said the boy, who was still rummaging through his trunk. "Are you one of those foreign representatives too?"

"That's right, aru!" Yao beamed and puffed out his chest; his strong, proud aura was a striking contrast to Matthew's meekness. "My name is Yao Wang, from China!"

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr Wang," the blonde girl said with an amiable smile. "I'm Luna Lovegood. These are my friends, Ginny and Neville."

"Ah!" Neville's face suddenly lit up in triumph, and he pulled out a long, scruffy towel covered in patches where the red had faded to rosy pink. He stared at it for a moment, a faint blush creeping up to his round cheeks. "Er—sorry, Mr Williams," he said, clearly embarrassed at being in possession of such an item. "I think Gran packed this for me..."

"It's just Matthew," the Canadian said, gently taking the towel with a smile. "And I don't mind, as long as Kumakichi and I can get dry. Thank you." He began rubbing down his polar bear, who made a soft growling noise and rolled over on his owner's lap.

The door banged open again. "HYUNG! I found you!"

There was a flurry of black robes and flailing limbs as a young Korean man bounded in and practically clamped himself onto Yao. The elder nation yelped and slapped away the hands that grabbed at his chest. "Ko—Yong Soo, get off me!"

"Whyyy?" Yong Soo whined, ignoring how Yao was doubling over under his weight. "We look so good together in these uniforms! Uniforms originated in Korea!"

"Don't lie! And don't say we're 'together' either!"

"Your breasts still belong to me!"

"Stop touching me!"

"Hyung, you're mean!"

"Get _off_, you insolent child!"

The others just stared.

"I think it will be fun to have these people in the castle this year," Luna commented blithely as Yao and Yong Soo argued and scuffled around the compartment, kicking up a sizeable mess of books and sweet wrappers. "I think we can make friends with them."

Neither Neville, Ginny, nor Matthew replied; they all appeared to be speechless and continued to watch the scene in utter bemusement. Smiling serenely, Luna slipped her odd glasses back on, then stopped and blinked. "Oh... but they all seem to attract an awful lot of Wrackspurts."


	3. Infiltration

There was an ear-wrenching screech and the train abruptly jolted to a halt. Ivan stumbled, quickly steadying himself against the wall to stop from falling over.

Fresh chatter erupted up and down the corridor, and several confused students poked their heads out into the hall to see what was going on. Were they at Hogwarts already? No, it couldn't have been that fast. Maybe the train had broken down? But it was powered by magic. Were they being stopped by authorities? Were they being hijacked? Chaos broke out as students began to panic at the thought of being kidnapped or killed by thugs—or worse, Death Eaters.

As Ivan sidled his way down the corridor, he didn't miss how the children would take one look at him and then make noises of fright and cower away in terror. He frowned. Was it because he looked different? Ivan glanced down at his long beige coat and heavy boots, which was perfectly normal attire in Russia but apparently far out of place here in Britain. In that case, once he returned to his compartment he would change into those black clothes they bought in Diagon Alley, the same black clothes that some of the students around him were already dressed in. And maybe if he wore the same thing as Yao, then Yao would stop avoiding him too.

Satisfied with his solution, Ivan kept walking. He periodically checked over his shoulder for any sign of Natalya, who had somehow managed to stalk him from his house, to England, to Diagon Alley, all the way to the train station, and had already expressed her intent to follow him even when they reached the school. Ivan wilted slightly; if only Katyusha could have come instead. His Ukrainian sister had been too busy worrying about her country's poverty to come along, but she'd told him to have fun and wished him a tearful farewell through her locked door (her boss had forbidden her to contact him again).

The thought of Katyusha's voice lifted Ivan's spirits somewhat. He wondered if he could write letters to her; he wanted to tell her about all the fun things he was going to do at Hogwarts, like learning magic and dismantling the pipes and pissing off Alfred and perhaps giving that little Polish boy what he deserved for centuries.

Yes, he was very happy to be invited to Arthur's special school. This was going to be an enjoyable year.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang. Something hit Ivan sharply in the back, and with a startled yelp, he toppled over and crashed face-down into the floor. His stiff, bulky frame lay smack in the middle of the corridor, blocking it from terrified students scrambling to return to their compartments.

Footsteps thumped behind him. "Well, well, well," a deep voice sneered, "what do we have here?"

A shoe was shoved roughly into his side, turning him over with great difficulty. Ivan found himself blinking up at a dark-hooded man who was staring down at him with a look of arrogant contempt. "You don't look like you're from 'round these parts," the man said. "Thought Snape woulda punted out all the goddamn transfers this year. What year are you in, you great lump?"

"I do not understand what you are talking about," Ivan said truthfully.

He was given a forceful kick in the ribs. "Don't play dumb with me," the man snarled. "Dodgy foreigners, I bet you're just trying to keep the Potter boy away from us, that right?"

The only response was a blank stare. The man jabbed his heel harder into Ivan's chest, clicking his tongue in disgust. "Think you're safe just because the Dark Lord's outta your country? Yeah, think again. If you got any secrets, you better start talking!"

"I-if you're looking for Harry Potter, he isn't here," a third voice broke in loudly, and both Ivan and the man lifted their heads to see a trembling brunet standing in front of them. Toris swallowed hard; he appeared to be forcing himself to look the hooded man in the eye. "I heard your friends ransacking the train. I know who Harry Potter is, and you won't find him here. L-leave Mr Ru—Mr Braginski alone."

Beside him, Feliks was staring at his friend in utmost disbelief. After all he had suffered by Ivan's hands, Toris was still _defending_ that psychopath?

The man glowered at Toris for a moment before kicking his way around the fallen Russian. "Feh... and I thought you foreigners were too stupid to know who Potter is. Guess his story ain't just famous in this country." He shoved Toris into Feliks as he stalked past them, ignoring the venomous glare Feliks shot at his departing back.

"You're like, way too soft for your own good, Liet," he said as he caught Toris, whose shaking legs had finally given way.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._ Screams rang out as every door down the corridor was blasted open, one by one. None of them yielded what he was looking for. An impatient scowl appeared beneath the shadow of the intruder's hood. Heavy black boots thundered down the cold floor of the train, occasionally kicking open a door to reveal frightened students hiding in the compartment—but still no Harry Potter.

"What—?"

"Outta the way!" the man snarled, pushing aside an innocent bystander who had come out to investigate the ruckus. But instead of shrinking away like the rest of the students, this one put his hands on his hips and made a very indignant noise.

"How rude, aru! Is that the way you treat your elders? Honestly, Europeans have no sense of respect at all..."

The man whirled around and narrowed his eyes. Was this pretentious brat seriously trying to tell him off? "'Scuse me?" he growled, drawing himself up to tower over his challenger, who didn't recoil but rather glared up at him without the slightest hint of fear. "No respect, you say? Now lemme make this clear, you little pansy." He leaned in offensively close to the other's face and jabbed his wand into his chest. "It ain't me who's gotta give the respect around here. 'Specially not from a puny little schoolbrat like _you_."

"Mr Wang?" The compartment door slid open. "What's going—"

Neville stopped when he saw the growing confrontation in the middle of the corridor. Yong Soo peered curiously over his shoulder, Ginny pushed her way out into the hall, while Matthew and Luna hovered wordlessly in the back. Yao brushed off their wide-eyed looks of apprehension and Ginny's battle-alert poise with an impatient wave of his hand. "I'll handle this."

Turning back to the hooded man, Yao looked straight into his shadowed face, still refusing to back down. "You are mistaken in calling me a 'schoolbrat'," he said, his tone sharpening as he repeated the derisive name. "Take care in putting your faith in appearances. They don't always relay the truth at first glance."

"Well lookee here, the sage has spoken." The man's smirked and crossed his arms in mock interest. "What else you got for me? No judging books by their covers? The quill's mightier than the wand? How 'bout some sympathetic crap about Mudblood equity? Yeah, all Mudbloods are equal, I say—they're all equally retarded." He threw back his head and laughed at his own wit.

Ginny bristled, and her hand crept into her robe pocket. "Are you finished?" she snapped, trembling slightly as if struggling to keep her temper in check. "The one you're looking for isn't here and you'll never find him, so hurry up and get off the damn train."

The man stopped laughing and turned his glare onto the fiery redhead. "How 'bout _I_ decide when I'm done with you lot," he spat back. "Keep your mouth shut, girlie, or I'll have to shut it for you."

She scowled. "You can't make me do anything."

"Oh yeah? I reckon I can."

Her hand whipped out. "_Stup_—"

A wand sliced through the air and a bang sounded out like a gunshot. The man's face split into a cocky grin as Ginny collapsed, her own wand knocked uselessly out of her grip. "Stupid girl," he said.

"Hey—!"

Two more shots rang out. Both Neville and Yong Soo crumpled beside her as if punched in the stomach.

"Stupid boys," the man added, kicking past the fallen trio blocking the doorway. Yao muffled a gasp and hurried forward, crouching beside each of them in turn to check for injuries.

"You don't listen to people very well, do you?" Luna said mildly as the hooded figure advanced on her and Matthew. "That's a shame, really. You could be doing so many better things with your time."

"Watch who you're talking to, you stuck-up little—"

A shimmering Shield Charm erupted around her just as the man raised his wand for the third time. Startled, he looked around wildly for the source, which took him a few seconds to locate: Matthew stood unwavering in a defensive stance beside Luna, even when the man's shadowed eyes finally landed on him.

"She has a point, you know," the Canadian murmured. His wand twitched in his hand and his gaze darted uncertainly around the compartment. "Whoever you're looking for, they're not in here. That's testimony from three of us... isn't that enough?"

The man said nothing, only looked back and forth between the two blondes with a leery expression. Then his head swivelled around to survey the room, and his nostrils flared as if trying to sniff out some hidden stowaway in the vicinity. The strained silence was broken only by distant crashes echoing from somewhere further down the train.

Finally, he turned on his heel and skulked out of the compartment, making a point to punt Ginny in the side with his toe as he passed. The loud, clunking footsteps grew steadily fainter, mingling with the rest of the crashing noises, and soon the intruder's snarling voice roared out, "You better have something over there, Avery!"

Back in the compartment, Matthew slowly lowered his wand and exhaled the breath he had been holding. "Well... that was strange, eh?" he said. "Why was he so sceptical of our word? At first I thought you kids really were trying to hide a fugitive or something, but there's nobody here besides us..."

"Oh, so that's what you were doing?" Luna said, turning to him with vague curiosity. "Checking the room? I thought it was strange that you were shaking. You don't seem like the type to be afraid of something like that."

This caught Matthew completely off-guard. "I—I don't?"

Luna leaned in closer and stared at him searchingly, making him shift in discomfort. "No," she said with conviction. "Intimidated, maybe. But not afraid. It gets easier, I think, once you've seen things that are truly frightening. It's like seeing a Ringed Erumink after almost being eaten by a Manticore, except Death Eaters don't hide under Lorenlax leaves."

Leaving Matthew with an air of utter bafflement, Luna glided serenely away from him and went to help the others back to their feet.

* * *

><p>Arthur was there waiting when the Hogwarts Express wheezed to a stop outside the school's towering gates. Cast in shadow in the darkening twilight, he stood near the rails with his arms folded, his black cloak fluttering in the light, cool September breeze. Flickering torchlight dimly illuminated his furrowed brows and apprehensive frown. His eyes flickered over the compartment windows, trying to spot any regrettably familiar faces.<p>

The doors of the train opened and swarms of students began pouring out of the train.

"Good trip?" Arthur called out to Ludwig, whose impressive height made him stick out from the sea of black despite wearing the same uniform as everybody else. Ludwig nodded stiffly at him and began pushing his way towards his host. As he approached, Arthur noticed Kiku and Feliciano sticking close behind, as if afraid they would be swallowed amidst the chaos if they strayed too far.

Wait—Feliciano? North Italy? Why was he here?

Arthur narrowed his eyes as he looked around and saw more nations whom he _certainly_ did not invite. Lovino, trailing behind his northern counterpart and shooting explicit glares at Ludwig's back. Heracles, dragging himself sleepily along with the crowd, miraculously not tripping over his own feet. Yao's Korean stalker, draped over his brother's shoulders like some clingy, oversized backpack. Ivan and Natalya, who had a large gap around them as students avoided nearing the intimidating pair. Ludwig's silver-haired brother snickering taunts at Elizabeta, who looked about ready to beat him over the head. The frog, with his arm wrapped around America's shoulders for some inane reason—or, hold on, maybe it was the other one... Canada?

What the _hell_ were they all doing here?

Arthur twitched and took a deep breath, trying not to lose his temper. There would be time for that later. At the moment, he had to stay professional, even though he really felt like punching somebody in the face—preferably Alfred, who was probably the one behind all these unexpected arrivals.

"International visitors!" he shouted, drawing curious stares and murmurs from the students, as well as a few of the nations themselves. "International visitors, go with the first-years! Hagrid will escort you all to the castle!" He waved towards a huge, bearded man, even larger than Ivan, waiting by the murky lake and calling for first-years in a booming voice. "Oh, and visitors!" Arthur added testily. "Meet me in the Entrance Hall after the feast!"

"There's a feast?" Feliciano echoed, bobbing up and down in excitement. "Evviva! I hope they serve pasta! And I hope England's not cooking!"

"That would be a saving grace," Francis agreed. "I too would like to live to see another day." Arthur overheard that and threw Francis a dirty look.

"Be thankful I'm not kicking your slimy arse out of my school right now," he snapped before stalking off towards the castle with the rest of the students.

As the first-years and the nations neared the lake, Alfred was the first to spot what was waiting for them in the water.

"Dude, we get to ride _boats_?" he said, breaking ahead of the crowd to get a closer look. "That is so wicked!"

Feliks' reaction was not nearly as enthusiastic. He stared apprehensively at the small, rocking rowboats docked along the lake shore. "This is totally not safe," he said with a cringe. "What if I like, fall out? I'll get gross wet stuff all over my clothes."

"Yeh can come with me if yer scared," the giant called Hagrid said, clapping a friendly hand on Feliks' shoulder and nearly knocking him into the water. "Yeh'll be jus' fine, I'll catch yeh if yeh go overboard. Now, everyone get in! No more than four to a boat!"

The first-years and the nations clambered into the rowboats, some more reluctantly than others: Feliciano instantly latched onto his grumbling brother, Ludwig took small, ginger steps in order to keep his balance, and Yao was desperately trying to avoid getting into the same boat as Yong Soo, who would probably end up capsizing it by accident. Feliks decided not to take up Hagrid's offer and instead joined Toris, Elizabeta, and Gilbert, whose presence elicited an immensely annoyed twitch from the Hungarian.

When everybody was settled in, the rowboats all set sail at once, cutting smoothly through the still water towards the castle.

"Hogwarts is quite beautiful," Kiku commented quietly, gazing up at the looming silhouette of the school set against stormy grey clouds. Huge turrets jutted up from the building to the sky, and soft pinpoints of light winked from their windows like stars. The castle's reflection in the lake rippled and bent as the boats passed silently over it. Every passenger watched with rapt attention as they drew slowly nearer to the entrance; some faces were alive with anticipation, others shadowed by breathless fear.

Suddenly, several people shrieked in terror. The darkness around them came to life, swooping around the small fleet of boats like a swarm of ghastly vultures. The air was shrouded in unnatural cold as the shadows circled voraciously above their heads. Low, heavy breaths rattled the stillness around them, growing louder and louder as the Dementors closed in; they had sensed fear and emotion and the promise of a sweet, sweet feast. The shivering first-years shrieked again and huddled together, their wide, petrified eyes darting around in panic as skeletal fingers began reaching towards them with malicious delight—

"China? China!"

Yao seemed deaf to the panicked scream; he had curled up into a ball, his hands clutched at his head, his nails digging into his skull as he whimpered and trembled like a helpless child. Beside him, Francis was hunched over in anguish, moaning unintelligibly, his eyes tightly shut and his jaw clenched as he shook his head in a violent, mechanical rhythm. Matthew had his face buried in Kumajirou's fur, his shoulders shaking with silent grief, and one boat over, Yong Soo let out a forlorn wail and tried to claw pathetically over the side. Ivan was shivering, his hollow eyes staring blankly at some unseen horror, and even Kiku was deathly white and crumpled into an emotional wreck, hanging on the verge of passing out.

A few first-years and almost all of the nations broke into tears. They glanced wildly at Hagrid for help, but he was hiding his face in his hands, gulping back great, heaving gasps; he was just as helpless as they were.

Gritting his teeth, Alfred rubbed a hand furiously across his wet eyes and glared at the Dementors. _Come on, America, be the big damn hero and do something about this!_

He lifted his wand—but no words could come out of his mouth. The rattling breaths echoed in his ears like mocking laughter. Panic flooded his mind. He wracked his brain for a spell, a curse, a little jinx, _anything_ that might possibly hinder their attackers, but there was nothing but blank _come on think America think think think_—

Then out of nowhere, a Dementor came flying at his face and—

"_NOW__! FIRE!"_

The wand clattered to the floor and Alfred collapsed as deafening gunshots rang in his ears. His eyes snapped shut and suddenly he was back home again, dirty and cold, mud soaking his pants and blood smeared on his cheek—

_Muted feet pattered against the ground, stepping nimbly over crevices and rocky dunes. His numb fingers trembled around sleeted iron, and the butt of the rifle clattered like lead on his shoulder. _

_Four shots cracked in the air. Four distant figures fell._

_A hot, sharp rush of adrenaline seared through his veins. Grim satisfaction flooded his entire being. He was killing the enemy, killing killing (killing his own people) and bringing justice to his country, to himself (murdering himself) for freedom, sweet freedom for them all, set them free, set them free, set me free, save me from myself you're ripping me apart stop it stop it no no (YES) no—_

_"Jones!"_

_And suddenly he had tumbled roughly to the grass and the rifle slipped from his hand. He gasped, his nails dug into the dirt, his feral blue eyes glinted with bloodlust and rebellion and hatred for the South, hatred for the North, hate hate hate they will never be free I will never let them go free because they are mine they are my property THEY ARE MINE KILL KILL KILL AND SET THEM FREE SET THEM FREE PLEASE STOP IT MY HEART IS BURNING PLEASE STOP—_

"_Expecto Patronum_!"

A burst of silver light flashed in front of Alfred's eyes and he woke from the memory with an abrupt start. For a moment he laid paralysed on the floor of the boat, his heart pounding violently and his face damp with sweat and tears. Then he scrambled to his feet, nearly collapsing again as his shaky legs threatened to buckle beneath him. He glanced up and his mouth fell open.

A shimmering silver cat was leaping dexterously through the air, marking a large protective circle around the fleet. The Dementors immediately shrank away from its light, and those nearest to it shot away as if excruciatingly burned. The cat continued to shield the rowboats until their bottoms scraped against the opposite shore of the lake, whereupon it vanished in a wisp of silver smoke. From the shoreline, a craggy outcrop of rocks led up to a dark, grassy hillside, where a tall silhouette of a woman was standing and watching the last of the Dementors retreat back into the darkness.

Silence settled over the night once more, broken only by terrified whimpers and quiet sobs.

"P-Professor McGonagall," Hagrid spluttered breathlessly. "Th-thanks a bunch... can't do a Patronus Charm myself, see..."

"I would have expected as much, Hagrid," McGonagall said curtly, turning her sharp gaze onto him. "Nevertheless, it is not your fault. Hogwarts has changed, and we should have known to take stricter safety precautions this year." Her eyes strayed to the frightened first-years and the nations, many of whom had not yet recovered from their brush with the Dementors. Her voice took on a much more businesslike tone. "I shall take the students and our guests from here. Hagrid, if you could please assist them in disembarking, and then fetch Madam Pomfrey. All of them will be needing remedies after such a close encounter." She stepped forward to help Hagrid in getting the shaken passengers to their feet.

"Am I the only one getting like... sketchy vibes from this place?" Feliks muttered, clambering out in a daze with Toris.

"You're not, Po," Elizabeta said softly, coming up behind them, wiping her tear-stained cheeks. "Y-you know... something tells me, spending the year here isn't going to be as fun as we thought."

* * *

><p>AN: afjskdgljs, my deepest apologies for the delay and the brief confusion. I had to rewrite a part of this chapter because it referenced 9/11 even though the year is supposed to be 1997... I honestly haven't the faintest clue how that slipped past both myself and my beta-reader. (Yes, I'm still headdesking repeatedly in my mind.) To be honest, I think I wrote the passage with 9/11 way better, but seeing as I only had a single evening and a whole load of research to do on the American Civil War (because I hardly knew anything about it, hurr), I suppose it could have turned out worse.

Again, thank you to the anonymous AwesomeFan for pointing out my ridiculous screw-up. If you guys ever see something inaccurate in my writing, feel free to point it out; I really try to do all my research as I plan, but evidently I am still capable of being the biggest dolt on the planet.

By the way, while I'm here... I want to say another huge huge _huge_ thank you to my readers! Every time I see that someone's reviewed or put this thing on alert, I get all warm and fuzzy inside and I really wish I could give you all a huge batch of appreciation chocolates or something. I love you all. Seriously.


	4. The Start of Term Feast

Arthur immediately knew something was wrong when his fellow nations straggled into the Great Hall in the middle of the first-years' Sorting. All of them looked abnormally pale, and they surveyed their new surroundings with minimal commotion—even Alfred and Yong Soo, from whom Arthur had expected the most disruptive reactions. As relieved as he was for the peaceful entrance, the nations' less-than-chipper appearances worried him. He kept a wary eye on them as the last first-year to be Sorted hurried off to the Ravenclaw table, and a thin, black-haired man rose from the centre of the staff table to address the students.

"Welcome," he said softly, although the expression on his face was anything but welcoming. His voice was barely above a murmur, but it seemed to cut through the silence and command the attention of every single person in the room. "Before we commence with the feast, a few introductions must be in order.

"In light of the previous Headmaster's death, I, Severus Snape, shall be taking over administration here at Hogwarts." Several furtive glares were shot at him, particularly from the older students, but Snape loftily ignored them all. "Filling my former position as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher will be Professor Amycus Carrow." A rather dumpy-looking man stood up and waved, grinning crookedly at the scattered applause he received. Snape continued, "His sister, Professor Alecto Carrow, will be teaching Muggle Studies, following the... regrettable resignation of Professor Charity Burbage." The short, stocky woman beside Amycus Carrow also stood, wearing a smug smirk that suggested that there may have been more behind this alleged resignation than Snape was letting on.

"Finally..." The older students' attention shifted to the only stranger left at the staff table. "Taking over as Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Arthur Kirkland."

Arthur didn't bother getting up from his chair. He waved briefly at the same tentative applause the students gave the Carrows, and then threw a pointed glare at Alfred, who had randomly cut in with a whoop. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed that the nations' listlessness seemed to be wearing off.

Meanwhile, from the end of the staff table, Hagrid looked on miserably.

Snape waited a few seconds for the room to fall completely silent again. "It is also my..." he twitched, "pleasure... to announce that the school will be hosting some international visitors this year. They are here to observe the reputable workings of Hogwarts, and thus shall be sorted into houses and shadow our seventh-year classes. You are to treat them as guests." Snape paused, his piercing gaze flickering over to the nations. "In return, they are to behave appropriately as guests."

A crease appeared in Arthur's forehead. Snape sat down again, which was the cue for Professor McGonagall to conjure up a scroll of parchment, unroll it, and begin reading out names in a rather clipped voice. "Arlovskaya, Natalya."

Ivan gratefully shook off the pale-blonde Belarusian clinging to his arm. Natalya gave him a beseeching look and seemed as if she wanted to protest, but after a few tense seconds of consideration, she stalked grudgingly up to the Sorting Hat and shoved it on her head. The Hat deliberated wordlessly for about a minute before its mouth ripped open and declared, "Hufflepuff!"

Arthur nearly fell out of his chair. _Really_? Ivan's crazy sister ended up in _Hufflepuff_? Maybe the Hat had gone a little loopy after all the chaos in the past year. Even the Hufflepuffs themselves looked uncertain as the intimidating-looking girl threw off the Hat and went to join their table. She sat down, ignoring a few brave souls' hesitant attempts at introductions, and fixed her possessive stare back on Ivan.

"Beilschmidt, Gilbert."

Gilbert swaggered up to take centre stage with Gilbird perched faithfully on his shoulder.

"Slytherin!"

"Kesesese! Looks like you guys'll be graced with my awesome presence this year!" he said, sauntering over to the half-heartedly applauding Slytherins.

"Beilschmidt, Ludwig."

Ludwig marched up to the front of the hall, his expression perfectly aloof. He swept the tattered Sorting Hat onto his head and sat stiffly on the stool.

"Slytherin!"

Ludwig took off the Hat and followed his brother, who was now hooting obnoxiously. Quite a number of students looked impressed by the German's powerfully built figure. A few Slytherin girls hastily inched over to make room for him, but Ludwig paid them no attention and sat near Gilbert instead.

"Bonnefoy, Francis."

The Frenchman apparently felt to need to twirl and blow the crowd a kiss before being Sorted. Quiet giggles erupted around the room, particularly from the female students. Arthur felt like smacking his rival _hard_ across the face.

"Slytherin!"

"Why am I not surprised," Arthur muttered, as "Braginski, Ivan" was called up. The large Russian looked a bit ridiculous wearing a pointed wizard's hat on his head, balancing himself on the tiny stool for a minute before the Hat declared him a Slytherin as well. A look of pure relief passed over Ivan's face. Meanwhile, Natalya looked like she was going to stab something. Many of the students around her began edging away.

"Héderváry, Elizabeta."

"Gryffindor!"

Elizabeta skipped down to greet her new house, while Kiku walked calmly forward, took her place on the stool, and placed the Hat on with great care, as if he were afraid of ripping it even further.

"Ravenclaw!"

He set it down with equal mindfulness and went to join the Ravenclaws amid their polite applause.

"Im, Yong Soo."

The eager Korean barrelled from the group and jammed the Hat over his messy, black hair.

"Gryffindor!"

"Brave as a lion, that's me!" Yong Soo accidentally kicked over the stool as he threw the Hat off and tore after Elizabeta. Only after some very loud scolding from Yao did he backtrack to set the stool upright again, grinning sheepishly as the rest of the students laughed. Professor McGonagall, hardly amused by this display of idiocy from her house, waited with arched eyebrows for the commotion to die down and for Yong Soo to return to his seat.

"Jones, Alfred."

The Hat barely touched the American's head before it instantly bellowed "Gryffindor!" once more. Yong Soo waved Alfred excitedly over to the Gryffindor table, where he had already found Ginny and Neville and had plopped himself next to them.

"Karpusi, Heracles."

Someone poked the spaced-out Grecian out of the knot of nations. He shifted his fluffy, cream-coloured cat from his arms to his shoulder, then trudged up to put on the Hat, all the while keeping a steadying hand on the cat's back.

"Ravenclaw!"

Heracles dropped the Hat lazily back on the stool and went to join Kiku, who made room for him with a soft smile on his face. The two quietly cuddled Heracles' cat together as "Laurinaitis, Toris" was called up.

It took a very long time for the Hat to decide on Toris' placement. The Lithuanian's face was rigidly set the entire time, and his lips were moving very slightly as if he was talking to himself. Finally, after nearly four minutes of silent debate, the Hat opened its mouth and shouted, "Ravenclaw!" From the Slytherin table, Ivan looked rather downcast as Toris handed the Hat over to Feliks and nervously made his way towards Heracles and Kiku.

Feliks was even more difficult. He sat there, legs crossed under his robes and arms folded impatiently, for over five minutes as the Hat mused over its decision.

"Gryffindor!"

"Sweet, I'm with Liz!" Feliks said, and he pranced his way down to sit beside Elizabeta. "But Liet is all the way over there, which is totally lame," he added, glancing at the Ravenclaw table. Toris caught his eye and gave him an apologetic smile, while Elizabeta patted her friend's arm sympathetically.

"Vargas, Feliciano."

This time, the Hat didn't take long at all. "Hufflepuff!"

The ditzy Italian peeked out from under the brim and waved proudly at Ludwig and Kiku, both of whom decided to humour him and wave back. Feliciano dashed off with the Hat still on his head, and he had to run back amid laughter to pass it on to Lovino.

"Hufflepuff!" Lovino followed his brother to the Hufflepuff table with much less enthusiasm.

"Why am I stuck with you, damn it?" he grumbled as Feliciano jumped up and clapped like an excited child, though he still hurried to claim a spot next to his northern counterpart.

"Wang, Yao."

"Ravenclaw!"

Yao's expression visibly relaxed. Disregarding Yong Soo's disappointed whining from across the room, he darted down to the Ravenclaws and squished himself into a spot next to Kiku. The Japanese nation twitched in displeasure and leaned away from the contact as discreetly as possible.

"Williams, Matthew."

The Canadian breathed out a small sigh of relief; he had been worried about being forgotten and his name not called at all. He tripped shakily onto the stool, balanced Kumajirou in his lap—a murmur rippled throughout the room and many people craned their neck to see the little polar bear—and he fumbled with his free hand to put the Hat on.

"Hufflepuff!"

Matthew edged down to the Hufflepuff table, where much of the empty space left was around Natalya. She didn't appear to notice him as he slipped wordlessly into a seat nearby.

With all the nations Sorted, the list of names vanished, and McGonagall picked up the Hat and moved the stool away. Snape stood up again, and the tittering students instantly hushed up once more. His black eyes swept over the crowd, meeting both fearful glances and defiant grimaces.

"Let the feast commence."

He sat back down as food suddenly materialised on the plates in front of them, much to the astonishment of the first-years and the foreign visitors. The hungry students immediately tucked into the meal, but many of the nations were wary of touching anything that reminded them of Arthur's cooking.

"Dude, you sure this stuff isn't radioactive or something?" Alfred asked, leaning down to scrutinise the lamb chops at eye level.

"No," a sandy-haired boy said, baffled, from a few seats away. "Why d'you say that?"

"Bad experiences," Elizabeta said, poking at the roast beef with her fork like it would spontaneously explode.

"Hong's told me lots of horror stories about England's cooking," Yong Soo added loudly. "They're the kind of stories that keep you up at night!" Arthur heard that and threw the Korean a dirty look from the staff table.

"We eat this food everyday," said a girl with a long, black braid draped over her shoulder. "I don't think there's a problem with it." Beside her, another girl with curly blonde hair nodded in agreement.

"Well, if you say so," Alfred said, and with cheerful vigour he began piling shamelessly generous helpings of steak and gravy onto his plate.

Before long, the Great Hall was filled with chatter, interspersed by the bright clinking of goblets and cutlery. Conversation was particularly focused around the international representatives as curious students eagerly questioned them.

"Yes, we do have magic schools in our own countries," Yao was saying to a group of wide-eyed third-years. "Have you ever heard of Guangdong Wushi Xuexiao?" He looked around to blank stares and chuckled. "I'm not surprised. Arth—England's here is one of the most prestigious. The name is heard much more than other schools."

"England? Hogwarts is in Scotland," someone piped up, confused. Yao froze.

"Yes, Scotland," Kiku said, coming to his rescue. He bowed his head humbly. "Allow me to apologise on behalf of my colleague. Coming from foreign lands, we occasionally confuse the countries of the United Kingdom." The others appeared to accept this as a reasonable explanation, and they returned to their meals, talking excitedly amongst themselves. Kiku took the chance to give Yao a critical stare when nobody was looking.

Meanwhile, over at the Slytherin table, Francis finished a dramatic story with a flourish of his hand, and the knot of girls around him broke into giggles.

"Et alors, mes filles," he continued, reclining in his chair and fingering his goblet like a delicate rose, "I said to him, 'You must be distingué in your affection, mon ami.' These are the words I live by—be gentle to the ladies and be gentle to the earth." He winked and a few of the girls sighed, resting their cheeks in their palms. Further down the table, Ludwig was mashing up his potatoes with a little more force than necessary, trying to pretend that he didn't associate with the coquettish Frenchman.

"Why are all the reasonable people in Ravenclaw?" he muttered, placing a hand to his temple as Gilbert began banging the table and complaining loudly about the school's lack of beer.

A tinkling crash sounded from the Hufflepuff table, and every student within a three metre radius turned their head: Feliciano had accidentally knocked a plate off the edge with his elbow.

"You idiot, Veneziano," Lovino said, rolling his eyes.

"Ah, scusate fratellone!" Feliciano apologised brightly, rubbing his neck with a sheepish smile. He quickly hopped off his chair to retrieve the broken pieces.

The quiet girl sitting beside him bent down, her red hair falling in a curtain over her face, and waved her wand over the mess. "_Reparo_."

"Oh, grazie!" Feliciano said in awe as the pieces flew back together and mended themselves. The two straightened back up and the girl set the plate back on the table. "Thank you, ve!"

She gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Feliciano's beaming expression turned to one of innocent worry when she lowered her head and continued pushing her food listlessly around her dish.

"GAHHH!" Half the Great Hall jumped when Alfred screamed and vaulted out of his chair, far away from the bewildered-looking ghost hovering near the other Gryffindor nations. As Alfred cowered behind a large roast chicken, Elizabeta turned back and cautiously addressed the ghost, whose extravagant clothing and ruffs reminded her of Europe's medieval ages.

"Sorry about him, he can be a little overreactive."

"He doesn't like ghosts," Yong Soo laughed. "Pisses his pants if you tell him a place is haunted. He plays horror games with Kiku and me sometimes, and he always loses 'cause it's too scary for him."

"I see," the ghost said, glancing back at Alfred with slight concern. A quivering tuft of the American's blonde hair was just barely visible over the chicken. "Could you please tell your friend that I am your house ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, and I mean no harm? I fear for his future at Hogwarts if he is this alarmed at every ghost that comes into his sight."

"You mean there are more of you?" Elizabeta said, her eyes widening.

"More of us ghosts, yes," Sir Nicholas said. "Do you see the other house ghosts there, at their respective tables? The Fat Friar, the Grey Lady, the Bloody Baron... Professor Binns is a ghost as well, he's the History of Magic teacher..."

"Totally sucks for Alfred," Feliks commented.

Meanwhile, the staff watched the scene with reactions ranging from amusement to annoyance to perplexity. McGonagall swept stiffly down to the Gryffindor table in order to get Alfred back in his seat, but he immediately broke into a loud fit of protest, sinking further behind his roast chicken shield. The students around them stared, whispered, and laughed, while the other nations carried on eating with an air of utter indifference towards the scene Alfred was making.

"I should have mentioned the ghosts to him before," Arthur grumbled to himself, running a tired hand through his hair. "Maybe then the twat wouldn't have been so keen on coming."

* * *

><p>At last, dinner was finished and the leftover puddings vanished, leaving all the dishes sparkling clean. The raucous chatter had settled into a low, sleepy hum; the students, now full and drowsy, waited to be dismissed to bed.<p>

Alecto Carrow stalked up to the front of the room. She flicked her wand, and deafening _bang_ silenced the room.

"Listen up, kiddies," she said, smirking at the scattered, frightened jumps throughout the crowd. "This show's gonna run differently from now on. We gonna have some order around here, 'cause we ain't a bunch of filthy Muggle animals, that right?"

Not a single noise escaped the wide-eyed students. Alecto's grin stretched wickedly across her face. "Now git yourselves in lines by house, scat, and we don't want no talking."

Snape did not contradict her, but watched with an unreadable expression on his face as the students hesitantly stood up and arranged themselves into sloppy, clustered rows along the tables. Many uneasy looks were exchanged, but still there was no sound except the rustling of cloaks and scuffs of fidgeting feet against the floor.

"Tch, thought the little whelps would be more trouble than this." Amycus' sneering voice joined his sister's, as the two looked over the arrays of students with unhidden disdain. "Bit of a disappointment. Ah well, fuck it," he said, and a few of the younger children muffled their gasps, "we'll have our fun with you kiddies later. Wouldn't want to spoil everything on the first day. Piss off to bed, you lot. And you better damn well stay there, we ain't putting up with brats wandering the corridors in the middle of the night."

With an arrogant flourish of his wand, he directed the trembling rows of students towards the doors. Nobody dared whisper or look back as they all shuffled out of the Great Hall, broke apart, and filed away to their house dormitories. Only the nations stayed behind in the Entrance Hall, lined up against to walls to let the students through. Elizabeta caught Neville's eye as he passed; he answered her apprehensive look with a wordless grimace.

When the teachers finally came out as well, many of them walked by with only a weary nod or a glance at their guests. Arthur was the last to emerge. He avoided his colleague's prying eyes as he turned around, flicked his wand, and slammed the massive doors shut behind him. Feliciano let out a startled squeak.

"Mon ami," Francis began in a pacifying sort of tone, but Arthur held up a hand to cut him off. Several people made sounds of impatience, but nobody said another word until the other teachers' footsteps had faded into the depths of the castle. Only then, when they were no longer in danger of being overheard, did Arthur turn on them with his sharp green eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I invited four of you," he ground out, his dark glare sweeping around the group and lingering particularly on Alfred. "How the hell did it turn into _sixteen_?"

For a moment, nobody responded. Then:

"What, you got a problem with it?" Alfred put his hands on his hips, almost daring his former guardian to argue with him.

"So it _was_ you!"

"Hey, never said that, dude. I mean, sure, I might've dragged my bro and Japan along, but that's it, I swear! These other guys are not my fault!" Alfred pointed a finger at Yao, who immediately swatted it down.

"That's rude, aru," the Chinese nation snapped. "And if you must know, I happen to be one of the four who were actually invited. Opium brought it up during the summer while we were helping Hong Kong move again."

"Speaking of Hong, I wish he could've come," Yong Soo said. "And Taiwan and Viet-nuna... it's too bad they all couldn't get all their I.D. stuff done in time."

"And that Spanish bastard _said_ he would come," Lovino muttered sulkily. "Why isn't he here?"

"I wonder how Latvia and Estonia are doing," Toris murmured. "They both said they were too busy..."

"Austria too," Elizabeta said with a hint of wistfulness.

"I can't believe that stupid aristocrat refused to join the awesome me," Gilbert huffed, earning him a dirty glance and a backhanded hit from Elizabeta.

"_You're_ not supposed to be here either!"

"Aw, don't worry 'bout it, guys!" Alfred laughed over the ensuing squabble behind him. "We can always invite everyone else later! Like at Christmas or something, we could throw a giant party here and maybe the profs'll be cool enough to give us free chocolate again—"

"Bloody hell, _no_!" Arthur's roar of exasperation cut him off. "What you lot need to do _right now_ is go upstairs, get your luggage, and get out of my school before you all get killed!"

"We are nations, England-san," Kiku reminded his friend gently. "We cannot truly die."

"That just makes it worse," Arthur growled. "As soon as they try the Killing Curse on one of you and realise it doesn't work, our cover will be broken right there. And trust me, I wouldn't put it above the Death Eaters to do that—I don't think they'll have any qualms about murdering a student or a teacher or a representative within these walls, no matter how important you are. And they've got to think you're pretty damn important if they let you in the school," he added in a pointed snap.

"Yeah, it was a pain in the ass to convince your Ministry people," Alfred said casually. "Managed it in the end though. They think we're all purists who want to spread Mouldyshorts' ideals in our own countries, or some bullshit like that."

"I still don't quite understand, did this 'Dark Lord' not see what happened in the World Wars?" Francis asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "La deuxième particulièrement?"

"I thought everybody was wise enough not to repeat what my boss had done," Ludwig thundered. "Who is this man? I'd like to show him what I think about this."

"As much as you and I both would like to give him what he deserves," Arthur said with a wry, hollow smile, "I'm afraid that wouldn't be the best course of action. Nor the most plausible, seeing as even I haven't the faintest idea where he is right now."

"Don't worry, the hero will find—"

"Alfred, s_hut up._" Arthur pronounced each word in a slow, menacing tone. "Clearly, you don't understand what's happening here. This is not a game. This. Is. A. _War_."

"And you're not fighting it alone. Face it, Artie, we're already here and we're not going anywhere 'til shit's gone down."

Alfred tossed out his words carelessly, almost jokingly, and Arthur turned on him, seething. But when they locked gazes, blue staring meaningfully into green, Arthur saw for a fleeting moment something else in his former ward's eyes. Something much deeper; something he thought the superpower nation would never care enough to even think about.

_You're not fighting alone._

The silence stretched between them for a long, tense minute. Finally, Arthur heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand against his temple. "Fine," he grumbled. "If you're going to be a stubborn git about it, suit yourself. Don't get me sacked or I swear, I will send a fucking dragon after your sorry arse."

He turned on his heel and stormed off towards the stairs, beckoning the others to follow him with a stiff jerk of his head. "Come on. I'll show you to your common rooms."

* * *

><p>AN: I'm sorry I'm so sorry I know I am the worst procrastinator ever stoppit self you are almost in university get your act together geez

You're probably going to realise this at some point or another, but each house has exactly four nations. This was honestly a complete coincidence. I promise, I have reasons for why I put everyone in the house they're in (yes, even Belarus and Hufflepuff; I'm probably going to get a lot of flak for that, heh).


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